


Closer

by micehell



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest (2006)
Genre: Dark, M/M, The rape is a little squirmy really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-10
Updated: 2006-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-12 03:22:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micehell/pseuds/micehell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's lost to the four quarters of his sea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closer

The tentacles have something viscous on them that sting as they trace over the whip marks on his back. Will shudders at the burn, at the _feel_ of them touching him. He strains to pull further away, but the leather at his wrists and the claw on his hip hold him in place.

There's a laugh from behind as the tentacles inch down, that strange voice that Will can't drown out - too close, too loud, so that his own panicked breathing is hidden beneath it - full of slurs and elisions, says, "Still struggling, lad, even when you know it does no good? Persistent creature, I'll give you that. But every time we do this, it brings you one step closer to being one of mine."

Will almost stops struggling, just to spite the monster, but the feel of one slick tentacle working its way inside him makes him buck again, ignoring the pain the claw causes in his need to be free. He bites his lip against the curse he wants to make, a little afraid that once he lets his voice loose he won't be able to stop, and the pleas to be left alone are too close to the surface for him to risk it.

Jones doesn't need any voice but his own, though, to have a conversation. "Fear. Fear drives men into my arms."

The arm with the claw is still at Will's hip, but the other one reaches around him, drawing him close, the tentacle at its end toying with his nipples even as two of its mates are pushing into his ass. When a third one pushes in, Will can't help the choked cry he makes, his body pushed far past its breaking point, blood already seeping from where old tears reopen.

The tentacles withdraw, but Will knows it's only a momentary peace, and the voice slides in his ears - "Closer to mine every time I do this" - even as Jones' cock breaches his body.

A barnacle protruding along the head of the cock catches against the ring of muscle trying to keep it out, but the claw bites down harder on Will's hip, holding him still as Jones increases the pressure, driving all the way in. There's blood on Will's lips, in his mouth, but he doesn't cry out again.

As Jones swells in and out of him, in and out, Will tries to escape inside his own mind, but the memory of the last time he'd tried to save Elizabeth, of the last time Jack had given him up, are too close to the surface. One hated voice is replaced with another, and the memory of an appetite that couldn't be sated sends him running back to the reality of Jones' arms around him. Jones' flesh still moving over him, in him - _moving_ in him - and Will's struggles against it only make Jones sigh his pleasure.

When the tentacle at the end of Jones' arm moves up, tracing along his lips, Will catches at it with his teeth, clamping down hard. The claw on his hip bites deeper, a trickle of blood running off its tip, and Jones' cock slams in him in retaliation, but the tentacle moves away.

The bloody smile of victory on Will's lips is wiped out as the tentacle eases into him alongside the cock. He hadn't screamed when he'd been whipped, but he screams now, his body stretched too far to keep it in.

Will feels darkness creeping in and he welcomes it, still looking to escape what's happening to him, but he sees the sails of the _Pearl_ in the darkness, and the cruel laughter behind him belongs to that ship, too; belongs to another captain who'd wanted to own him.

His voice is nearly gone from screaming, but Will can hear the broken laugh that comes out of him at the memory. He could almost hate Elizabeth for the price he's had to pay for her, should… could almost hate Jack for what he's taken, and for what he's given away.

The soft laugh is overwhelmed by Jones' scream of release, and Will simply falls to the deck as he's let go. The floor is cold, the touch of depth and death about it, but Will pushes into it to avoid the tentacles that want to play in the blood on his back, on his hip, on his legs. They follow, and Will bears their touch silently, saving his strength for the next battle, knowing this one's long lost.

Jones finally tires of the game, moving to leave. At the door of the cell he turns back. "Closer to mine all the time, lad. Your fear of what I might do to you, of what I might have my crew do to you…" Jones' voice trails off, his head tilting to the side, the tentacles that frame his mouth twitching in what was probably amusement. "I wonder… what else might your father be willing to do to save you from my boatswain's touch?"

He pauses as if waiting for Will to answer. Will knows that anything he says won't make a difference, and he hugs his arms tightly around his shaky body, holding his shaky thoughts in.

Will doesn't see Jones leave, but eventually the sound of the organ fills the air, and he can relax, safe for the moment.

He tries to sleep, but the organ's deep tones seem to be singing to him, a one word chorus and refrain - _closer, closer_ \- and he feels himself grow nearer to hating Elizabeth, to hating Jack, to hating himself. So much nearer to that.

When the music stops, he folds into himself, trying to keep the fear out, but he hears it stumping down the hall, coming closer.

Closer.

::::::::::

Will feels numb. He's lost so much, giant holes pocked all through him that he can never hope to fill again.

He looks at Elizabeth. There's mourning on her face, and Will can almost believe she carries the pieces of him she's taken in the deep well of her grief for Jack.

Will looks at Barbossa. His face is clothed in smugness layered beneath a patina of madness, but there are glints of the pieces he's stolen from Will in his leer.

Looking at his own hands, Will thinks of crossing over miles of ocean, every wave tipped with the pieces of him that Jones has taken.

He looks ahead to World's End. He can see Jack there, all cockeyed grace and charm, his hair full of bones and charms and pieces of Will that dangle and dance with every move that Jack makes.

Will wonders if having all the pieces nearby could make him whole again, but then laughs, knowing that's another battle long lost. He finally stops struggling and nods his head, giving, again, his consent to the journey, even knowing what it's likely to cost.

Tia Dalma's eyes are on him. Will can feel their weight. He looks into them, but they're changed; as distant and blue as the sea, alien in her face, but horribly familiar to him. She smiles, and the black on her lips and teeth almost obscure the word she mouths. Then her eyes go dark and unknown again, and her face fills with confusion and curiosity as she repeats, "Closer?"

He doesn't explain what it means or who she's channeled. He only shivers and wraps his arms tightly across his chest, trying not to lose any more.

/kink


End file.
